Lighthouse Vignettes
by Balin Lord of Moria
Summary: A series of short scenes from everyday life in Fogsbane, Stormcrow, Greyhaven, and Waveguide, the four lighthouses from Ultima V. Chapter 4 is not for the faint at heart.
1. Fogsbane

**A/N: **This first chapter of this fanfic is dedicated to Jim and Linda Cunningham, a Christian nudist couple living in New England today, and the authors of _Nudity and Christianity_, and to Linda's great essay, **"Tolkien's Naked Fellowship,"** which is posted in my profile page. She'll probably never read this, but I'd like to thank her for her essay about nudity in Middle-earth, which inspired me to write this short vignette in the _Ultima_ universe. Don't worry, though, it isn't entirely about chaste nudity; the characters also talk about life and the future, and how one girl's innocent lifestyle could be preparing her to oppose and resist Blackthorn.

There's no special point or purpose to these vignettes; I'm simply using the lighthouses from _Ultima V_ for a few amusing scenarios in print. This four-chapter fanfic is basically a semi-serious parody of Britannian life during and prior to the fifth _Ultima_ game.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Ultima_, Richard Garriott and Origin do, I'm just playing around in it.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Fogsbane**

"Grandpa, can I go outside for a while?" Jennifer asked her grandfather, Jotham, after a nice early dinner, "Can I go out and play outside for awhile, please?"

"Of course," old Jotham responded, smiling, "Just be careful out there; remember, it'll be getting dark soon, and thou dost need to get thy sleep while I take the first watch at the light tonight."

"I know, grandpa," Jennifer said, a little impatiently, "You always say that to me. Don't worry, I'm fifteen years old; you know I can take care of myself in most situations. In fact, because you're getting older, _I_ should really be watching over _thee_, dost thou know that?"

"Yes, Jennifer," Jotham chuckled, "But I'm not that old yet. Thou should continue to learn every day about independence before thou dost worry more for my welfare, for thou shalt be on thy own when ye turn sixteen."

"Yes, of course, grandpa," said Jennifer, "Now can I go and have some fun?"

"Yes, thou mayest," Jotham chuckled, knowing about his granddaughter's desire to streak and swim.

"I thank thee, grandpa!" exclaimed Jennifer, and she went outside.

* * *

Jennifer walked out the front door of Fogsbane, a lighthouse located on a small island with grass and little hills in Britanny Bay. Its purpose was to guide ships in and out of the harbor of the city of Britain. She and Jotham were the only inhabitants of the lighthouse (and the island), and sea monsters were usually rare in that part of the ocean, except for the occasional shark or two, so as a result, it was very peaceful there.

Suddenly she remembered that she couldn't stand her coat, tunic, boots, and trousers. Jennifer quickly stripped herself of all of her clothes, casting them to the wind, and stood nude and elated before the evening sky. Then, she began to run about the island, exercising her legs and working up a sweat. Jennifer, you see, was a nudist as often as was possible in her young life; she had been one ever since coming to Fogsbane two years earlier with her grandfather. The ocean atmosphere of Britanny Bay was cool and refreshing, and she loved to feel the breezes on her bare skin; she also had no shame for her nude body, being brought up innocently by her parents before an earthquake had killed them. They had encouraged her to enjoy life clothes-free when she could, for it was the best way in their opinion to live a shame-free life, and Jennifer had always taken their advice.

She ran about for about a half hour on the grass and over the hills, and then she dove into the ocean south of Fogsbane to cool herself off. She was world-wise enough to always keep an eye out for dangerous predators and monsters when she swam, though; fortunately, none were forthcoming that evening. Finally, she lay face up on the shore of the island, drying herself in the sun, with the delight of one who once felt a bitter, cold repression in her body and cast it off to feel like she sees a day of heavenly light and the promise of another day of hope for the world.

Finally, she got up and walked back to the lighthouse. She was about to put her clothes back on when she realized she wasn't ready to get dressed again. She simply picked up her clothes and walked back inside.

* * *

"Jennifer, art thou still undressed?" Jotham asked in surprise at the dinner table. "Thou art supposed to dress for indoors normally."

"I'm sorry, grandpa," she apologized, "I just couldn't quite bear to put them back on quite yet. Can I keep them off for a little while longer, yet? I'm starting to learn that I can relax better when naked than when clothed, and I want to try sleeping without my nightgown from now on, too."

"Well, ordinarily I would say no, my granddaughter," said Jotham, "for there are health issues with being exposed to the cold elements of this part of Britannia. But, thou art a growing girl, so fine, I will say yes, on three conditions."

"Yes, grandpa, what are they?" Jennifer asked, a little tensely.

"First, thou mayest not go naked in bed during the wintertime," Jotham pronounced, "'Tis too cold during that season to be sleeping that way. Second, thou must always be dressed when thou art doing thy shift at the revolving light on the tower. And third, until thou dost turn sixteen, thy nudity is restricted to this island and this lighthouse at all times."

"Yes, grandpa," she said agreeably, knowing that her grandfather was a very wise old man.

"And another thing," he said, "Do not just watch out for sharks and other sea monsters when thou dost swim in the sea. I still remember the great whirlpools that go here, there, and everywhere in the sea. Ye must never allow thyself to be caught by one, or thou shalt be lost forever in the Underworld. I would never forgive myself if that happened to thee."

"Yes, certainly," Jennifer said quickly.

"I mean it, granddaughter," he replied sternly, "Keep away from them whirlpools!"

"Grandpa, I can sure as heck watch out for a whirlpool, so I don't see how one could sneak up on me."

"Very well," said Jotham, "Just remember that I _did_ warn thee."

"Yes, grandpa," she agreed.

* * *

A little later, they finished their supper, and they went into the living room to relax until sundown. Jotham put some logs in the fireplace and lit a fire. Then he sat in front of it. Jennifer pulled a book of lore from the bookshelves and pulled up a chair next to his, by the fire.

"Jennifer," Jotham asked, "Why art thou always so funny about thy nudism? I know that many people in Britannia are not ashamed to take everything off when the situation calls for it, like at the shrines, but thou dost carry it almost to its limits."

"I don't think nudity has any 'limits,' grandpa," she replied, "I suppose, besides it being a good way to retain childhood innocence and feel no body shame, going out with nothing on in a clothes-based society give me the strength of will and body to face more dangerous scenarios in life. Perhaps, if I can stand naked and brave in front of a hundred total strangers, I can be a stronger individual when facing people who do not like it when someone rebels against a wrong norm of society, like Blackthorn's rule of Oppression right now. I don't want him to take over the wills of too many more innocent souls in Britannia, and if I can be brave enough to be naked in front of people who don't approve of it, then I'm capable of standing against the hosts of Blackthorn and the Shadowlords who want to twist the meaning of the Eight Virtues of Avatarhood. That's my belief, anyway."

"Hmm," Jotham mused, "It sounds a bit of an unorthodox practice to me. I cannot think of anyone else who would try that. But if thou dost want to try it, I will not attempt to stop thee. Everyone has to follow their own path to the Virtues, including thee."

"I thank thee again, grandpa," she said, "Thou dost not know how much this means to me."

"Indeed," Jotham smiled, "But it will be dark as night very soon, so I suppose it is time to go up to the top of the tower and mind the light until 1 A.M. Until then, good night, Jennifer. Do not stay up too late reading books."

"I won't, Jotham," she promised.

After about another hour of reading her book, Jennifer went to bed, and decided that she had never found it more comfortable than when she was nude. There she stayed until 1 A.M., when her shift started and she had to get dressed again. But she did not mind. A person can't always have what they want; that would defeat the purpose of the virtues Compassion, Sacrifice and Humility.

* * *

**In chapter 2, a domestic relationship is shown where Emilly and Windmire, an old married couple living in the lighthouse Stormcrow, discuss some of the finer details of their lives, including the wickedness of Captain Blythe!**


	2. Stormcrow

**A/N: **Chapter 2 is about another domestic family situation, in this case, an old retired couple who wistfully remember a tragedy of their past and feel it's their duty to run a lighthouse in Britannia.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Stormcrow**

"This was certainly a good dinner, Emilly," complimented Windmire, an old man who ran a lighthouse named Stormcrow.

"I thank thee, my dear," said Emilly, his wife of some forty years. "I always try to do my best for thee, especially considering this wasn't one of my best efforts."

"It was the best mutton I ever had," he said, "And anyway, thou dost always make good food. 'Twas one of the reasons I married thee, remember?"

"I remember," Emilly said, giving her husband a playful look, "Though I hope thou didst do it for other better reasons as well. After all, thou dost still love me dost thou not?"

"But of course," Windmire smiled, "I have always loved thee. 'Twas always my desire to love and please thee. Of course, 'tis also a passion of mine to guide ships to safety in Minoc's harbor ever since…" Here his voice trailed off.

* * *

Stormcrow was a lighthouse built southwest of Minoc, the town of Sacrifice, and it guarded Lost Hope Bay, a risky area for ships to sail in during the night. It always made sea travel safe during the night with its light. A small mountain chain was near Stormcrow, and at the southern end was the deadly dungeon Covetous. Many had thought it risky for Windmire and his wife to have a house so close to that infamous dungeon, but since the Words of Power kept the dungeons closed most of the time, Windmire and Emilly felt relatively secure there.

It was also a very simply furnished lighthouse on its first floor. Fogsbane had had a bookcase to keep Jennifer and Jotham entertained during their off-duty waking hours. Emilly and Windmire had no need for books, however, partly because Windmire's reading eyes were not what they used to be, but mostly because the old married couple were usually content to live with each other's company. They didn't feel the need for the sorts of leisure that families with younger members oft did. They were content merely to have some reclining chairs, a little table, a dinner table, a stove and cooking table, and their bed.

Still, even their humble life was not always sunshine and roses. Windmire often was reminded of the reason why he decided to run a lighthouse in the first place. A horrible accident had happened to one of his best friends during his middle age; Scotty, a childhood friend, had been drowned in a sea storm. Windmire swore that he would never allow something like that to happen again, and that was why he built this lighthouse in the first place.

* * *

Emilly hesitated for a moment, and then spoke softly to her husband. "I know dear, I know thou dost still miss Scotty. I miss him, too. But I still believe that thou didst not have to give up sailing, necessarily. Thou art a great sailor, perhaps one of the best in Britannia! Why wouldst thou want to give that up completely?"

Windmire looked slightly annoyed as he looked at his wife. ""Emilly, we have been over this before. Thou dost know how important a job it is to protect ships from crashing in Lost Hope Bay and other areas of Britannia where sailing during the night is risky. I don't want other people to lost a loved one the way I lost… Scotty."

"Yes, Windmire, I already knew that," said Emilly patiently, "But my point is, thou didst not necessarily have to give up sailing altogether. It isn't like all people who go sailing are going to end up in a horrible accident."

"I'm not afraid of dying in a storm, Emilly," he said, not so patiently, "And besides, I also want to be there for people who are troubled by the atrocities of that scoundrel Captain Blythe who serves as Minoc's shipwright. My goodness, the man has a heart blacker than gunpowder! He should not be at the helm of Minoc's shipwright business at all, seeing how vile and uncouth a person he is. In fact, he may even be less than human, for all we know. His cruelty sometimes makes me wish I could kill him!"

"Now, don't take out thy frustrations on me, Windmire!" Emilly said firmly, "I am thy wife, and I love thee, but 'tis not an excuse to take out all thy frustrations out on me. If thou dost need to vent thy spleen, why do not thou do it to Captain Blythe himself?"

"Because that monster will not tolerate my presence in his workshop anymore, thou dost know that! He has had it with my complaints, and he said that if I ever bother him again without a truly good reason, he shall have the guard at the front gate arrest me. And that guard works for the tyrant Blackthorn, no less," Windmire almost ranted. "And look at how he, that is, Blythe, treats his employees, like Fenelon and Rew. He could be court-martialed for the way he uses them if Lord British were here."

"Stop it right now, my husband," Emilly said, her voice becoming stern. "Thy mood is one of anger, hate and pride right now, and thou dost know that Pride is an anti-virtue and Hate an anti-principle in this world. And remember, one of the Shadowlords is said to stand for Hate, and we do not want him to come around here, ever. Thou must calm thyself down about Blythe and Scotty and think about something that brings more cheer to thee."

"Like what?" Windmire asked moodily.

"Well, like Shenstone, the proprietor at the Darkwatch Armory in Minoc," she suggested. "Thou hast always thought highly of him."

"Well, yes, Shenstone is known for his fine leather work," admitted Windmire, "And I like the way he keeps his skull keys a secret from almost everybody, including Minoc's chief guard. He is a better person than Blythe any day."

"There, see?" Emilly said, "There are better things to think about, even in these trying times."

"But I do hope that Lord British will return one day," remarked Windmire, "or that the Avatar comes back to help Lord British return. I imagine people like Blythe are prospering because Blackthorn and the Shadowlords are helping or supporting them in their dirty work. It surely would not surprise me."

"That could be true," said his wife, "But Minoc is still a good city, even with Blackthorn's cold influence over it. The Mission of the Helpless still caters to poor beggars and other needy people, and 'tis a good place to rest and recuperate, also. I only wish that something other than Blackthorn's twisted charity paid for it."

"Same here, my wife," Windmire said. "And Minoc also has a good healer, Regina, at The Healer's Mission, who is willing to heal and cure for free if a hurt or sick person does not have the money to pay for it himself."

They both sat back in their chairs and stopped talking for a few moments, realizing their throats were a little tired from so much talking. Just sitting there, enjoying each other's company, was what they most liked to do when they weren't working. Then, Windmire stood up and said, "I am sorry if I was harsh with thee, dear, while talking about my friend and that… captain. Dost thou wish to dance on top of the tower for a little while? Just us, in the evening light; I don't care if sailors see us, just so we can dance for a little before night is upon us."

"Of course, Windmire," Emilly accepted, "And I accept thy apology. Come, let us go."

* * *

And with that, they went to the roof and danced in the evening light, as they said they would, occasionally leaning against or kissing each other in a romantic way.

Emilly had always loved Windmire, and more than anything else, it was because of his strong Compassion. Of course his Love wasn't perfect; anyone familiar with his view of Captain Blythe would know that, but he cared enough about people who could suffer the same calamity he and Scotty had suffered that he was determined never to let anyone else to suffer the same fate as his friend. And if he ever slacked off on his job, and a ship crashed and someone perished, he would never forgive himself. That was why he always kept improving his lighthouse and his skills to save ships from destroying themselves.

After dancing for about a half hour, Windmire offered to take the first shift, since he still had a little tenseness in his body and he thought he could let it out better by doing his job than in bed.

"Of course, dear," Emilly kindly agreed, "I shall see thee at midnight."

"Good night, Emilly," Windmire replied.

As she returned to the ladder to go back downstairs, Emilly looked back once. Windmire was leaning out at the precipice of the tower's wall, looking off toward the port of Minoc, and she thought she saw a slight wistful look in his eyes. She knew he would never forget Scotty or his commitment to this lighthouse. She returned to the first floor, cleaned up their supper, and went to bed.

* * *

**In chapter 3, Sir Arbuthnot and Kenneth the composer adjust to their fugitive life in Greyhaven, while the family who owns the lighthouse has one of their almost routine disputes about the rightness or wrongness of Blackthorn's Laws of Virtue!**


	3. Greyhaven

**A/N: **Chapter 3 is about an argument over whether Lord British or Blackthorn is a better ruler for Britannia, and what sorts of lives two fugitives live as the family who owns Greyhaven have them stay there as their guests.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Greyhaven**

"Now, Anthony, thou dost understand Lord Blackthorn's Law of Honesty by heart, dost thou not?" a young woman named Charlotte was asking her son one evening while in the living room of their lighthouse, Greyhaven.

"Yes mother," her son, Anthony, said back, "_'Thou shalt not lie, or thou shalt lose thy tongue.'_ Did I get it right, mother?"

"Yes, thou didst, son," Charlotte said proudly. "Thou art beginning to see the light of the law in thy life, indeed! Now, let us recite the Law of Compassion next. Canst thou say it by heart?"

Anthony thought for a moment, and then said, "_'Thou shalt help those in need, or thou shalt suffer the same need.'_"

"Excellent!" his mother said, "Thou art correct again. Now next, tell me the Law of Valor, son."

"Pardon me, Charlotte," said Charlotte's husband, David, who was passing through, "Thou hast been drilling these lessons about Blackthorn's laws and ethics into our son's head from day one. Dost thou not think his mind could use a little rest right now?"

"First of all, dear, it's _Lord_ Blackthorn," said Charlotte, "_He_ is king now, not Lord British. I do not believe British is coming back, anyway. And second, thou must remember that Anthony has to know these lessons by heart. He, too, has to grow up sometime, and I want him to do so with a wise, intelligent mind, which is easy with Lord Blackthorn on the throne."

"But Charlotte, Blackthorn's laws are not as perfect as thou dost think they are," said David, ignoring her usage of "Lord Blackthorn," "Dost thou not think that thou should slow down a little and think for thyself a little bit? Blackthorn is forcing Virtue on people, and by following him fanatically, as well as drilling all these Blackthorn-based lessons into Anthony's head, thou art helping him and his Oppression thrive."

"But I _do_ think for myself, David," Charlotte said a little impatiently, "I _chose_ to put aside Lord British and accept Lord Blackthorn, and look where it's gotten us. We have a good home, good riches, a lifetime's supply of reliable possessions and goods, and-"

"Those are all good things," interrupted David, "but they have cost us-no, they have cost thee and Anthony-thy mental and spiritual freedom, and if thou dost keep stubbornly going down this path, it will ultimately cost thee thy souls. And being part of this family, I do not want that to happen to you, or Anthony."

"Oh, thou art calling me stubborn now?" Charlotte exclaimed indignantly, "What dost thou know that we do not? British never enforced the use of Virtue on anyone, no wonder so many did not follow it nearly as well as the Avatar! But Lord Blackthorn does enforce them, and with a sharp mind. And all this gossip around Britannia about three Shadowlords makes no sense to me at all."

"I have tried to explain the truth about them to thee before," said David wearily. He had quite clearly had this dispute with his wife several times before. "I mean, thou still dost not take me seriously-"

"Can I say something here?" Anthony suddenly asked loudly, "I'd like to give my view on this conversation?"

His parents looked at each other, and then nodded.

"I'm with mother, and with Lord Blackthorn, on this one," he said. "Father, thou dost know I love thee, perhaps more than mother does, from the look of this. But I need some focus in my life, and studying the rules of a good substitute king has been the best thing that ever happened to me. Thou dost understand, right?"

David lowered his head in disappointment. "I do understand, son," he said. Charlotte looked triumphant, almost smug. David hated it when she looked like that; she seemed so arrogant.

"I thank thee, father," Anthony said, getting up and giving him a hug.

"Now, canst thou give me a chance to finish tonight's lesson in the Laws of Virtue, David?" asked Charlotte.

"Yes, I suppose so," said David.

"Good. Thanks. Now, as I was saying, son, what is the Law of Valor?"

"'_Thou shalt fight to the death if challenged, or thou shalt be banished as a coward.'_"

"Very good, Anthony."

David decided to get up and check with Greyhaven's two visitors for a bit.

* * *

Greyhaven was located south of Trinsic, the town of Honor, at the Cape of Heroes, and it ensured that all ships sailing through there could find safe passage through those dangerous waters among the several islands there, including the Isle of Deeds, where Serpent's Hold was located. It was a very good place for travelers to visit and find shelter at, for in addition to the usual bedroom, dining room, and lighthouse tower, it had a spare bedroom with two large beds for guests to sleep on, a large living room with enough chairs for five people, a fireplace in the living room, and plenty of bookshelves and books for reading. It even had a slightly fancy entrance chamber, where two potted plants and a grandfather clock were kept to lighten up the room, and an extra large storage chamber for the owners and guests to keep their larder, goods, and supplies.

At this present time, two men were guests at this hospitable lighthouse, Sir Arbuthnot, Lord British's royal minter, and Kenneth, British's court musician. They had to keep their reasons for refuge at the lighthouse a secret from Charlotte and Anthony, what with their devotion to Blackthorn and all, but when they learned that David, the man of the house, did not agree with his wife's sentiment toward Blackthorn, they did tell him their reason for finding refuge, to escape Blackthorn's tyranny, and he promised to keep it a closely guarded secret from Charlotte and Anthony, knowing that if Anthony knew, he wouldn't hesitate to tell his mother.

* * *

At that particular moment, Sir Arbuthnot was sitting in front of the fireplace reading a book about the history of Britannia. David walked over to have a quiet talk with him; he knew his wife and son wouldn't overhear or eavesdrop, for they were too busy doing their lessons to bother to try.

"Art thou doing well, Arbuthnot, sir?" David asked him quietly.

"Indeed, I am," the coinmaker replied. "Dost thou recall that Shamino and Dupre requested that I make a special Codex coin to summon the Avatar back to Britannia, to hopefully defeat Blackthorn and these Shadowlords and perhaps also find Lord British?"

"Yes, I do," David confirmed.

"Well, I meant to tell thee, but Charlotte and/or Anthony were constantly too close by," Arbuthnot explained, "I have finished it, and 'tis indeed a beautiful coin, if I do say so myself, and Shamino and Iolo have received it by now, and are likely to be summoning the Avatar back soon with it. Tell me," he asked more quietly, "Dost thou think that the Avatar will truly be against Blackthorn's regime? For I would not want him to be deceived by, or side with, the enemy. Even some of the best followers of Virtue, like Charlotte over there, for example, have been twisted or corrupted by a twisted and corrupted system of law."

"I cannot say for certain, Sir Arbuthnot," David replied, "But while he was a very devoted follower of the virtues during his first quest here, I never heard any reports of him being a zealot or a fanatic. I think it likely that he will support Lord British, myself."

"I truly hope thou art right," Arbuthnot said, "And I mean it, I truly have hope that he will. But if his quest here ever brings him to Greyhaven, and I'm still here when that happens, I shall ask him myself about the current regime and the nature of the true Avatar. If he can reveal the truth to me, I shall feel much better."

"And I am sure thou shalt," said David. "I shall see thee later; I must look in on our other guest, and then I have the first shift at the revolving light tonight."

"Of course, good night, David," said Arbuthnot.

* * *

Kenneth was in the guest bedroom just then, practicing his hands at playing a harpsichord the owners of Greyhaven had put there to entertain their visitors. That was where David found him. Kenneth stopped playing as David entered and approached him.

"Good evening, David, my friend," he said regally.

"Sit Kenneth," David said with a nod of his head, "Sorry to interrupt thy practice, but I just wanted to check in before I start my shift in the tower."

"I thank thee," Kenneth said, "I am doing just fine. I was just practicing one of my favorite royal songs, 'Stones,' because I am trying to memorize the pattern of the notes for a possible visit from the Avatar and his companions."

"Really? Why?" David asked.

"Come over here, and I shall whisper the answer in thy ear."

David came over to him, and Kenneth said, "If played correctly on Lord British's private harpsichord, this song can open a secret chamber in his quarters where he keeps his Sandalwood Box. The king keeps a secret treasure inside it that the Avatar will ultimately need in his quest, though they say that only Lord British himself can open the box. I am not certain what the treasure is, but it must be absolutely pivotal to bringing the true king home, if it's so secret, and only British can open it!"

"That sounds rather heavy to me," David remarked. "I hope then that the Avatar _does_ come here during his return. But I swear, I will keep this a secret from my family, for if they knew, who knows what might happen?"

"Thanks, David," Kenneth said. "That means a lot to me. Perhaps thy old sextant device could be of help to him, as well."

"True," said David, "I have no further use for it myself, nor does my family, and it may prove to be valuable to our virtuous hero, too."

"David!" he heard Charlotte call from across the room. "Do not forget thy shift! It starts very soon!"

"Yes, Charlotte," David said politely. "Well, I must get back to work, Kenneth. I hope thou dost do well with thy music. I'm sure _many_ people would be grateful for it." He winked.

"I am certain, too, my friend," Kenneth winked back as David started to leave. "I am certain, too."

* * *

**In chapter 4, we see a dark picture of Waveguide, the last lighthouse, where rumor has it that those who own and run it perform dark experiments and commit bloodshed galore. Are the rumors true? Find out in the last chapter!**


	4. Waveguide

**A/N: **Chapter 4 is about a dark, bloody experiment done by the keepers of the lighthouse Waveguide, and how they resist and mock the questions of the Avatar. It also reveals their hidden loyalties, which I made up for this story. **Warning! People who don't care for witchcraft, bloody rituals, or dirty, profane talk, should avoid this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Waveguide**

"Jacqueline, is the new razor ready for my next experiment?" asked Gregory, master of the lighthouse Waveguide.

"Uh, yes, dear," said Jacqueline, his wife, uncertainly, "I think it was… over here."

"What? Again you can't remember where you left the damn razor?" Gregory said impatiently, "By the Virtues, your memory _is _getting worse all the time!"

"Relax, Gregory," said Jacqueline, "It was… yes, here it is." She handed him a razor knife that had a very sharp and fresh blade.

"Good," Gregory said, taking it from her. "Now, is the dish ready to catch my blood?"

"Yes, I think so," said Jacqueline.

"You _think_ so?" Gregory exclaimed, "Is your brain working _at all_ today, woman?!"

"Of course it is," slurred his wife, "You know that I don't have as sharp a mind as you do. I need time to catch up with your quicker thinking, whether you like it or not."

"Well, then, you're lucky that these experiments do not have to be done fast," Gregory growled. He held the razor in one hand, and raised it to his other hand. Then he gave himself a small cut on the back of that hand, and allowed a few drops of blood to drip into the bowl. Then he raised the razor to his face and made a cut on his face, on the left cheek, and it dripped into the bowl. Gregory and Jacqueline chanted a rather sinister chant over the blood and dropped marked chicken bones into the bowl next, and swished them around in the bowl. They were foreseeing the future, or so they thought, and this day's news was not to their liking.

"I see the champion of the Virtues, the Avatar, coming back to Britannia to bring back Lord British from his prison in the center of the world," said Jacqueline.

"Well, that is not good," grumbled Gregory, "Lord Blackthorn has been on the throne for only a few years. The continuation of his rule must continue at all costs! If British returns from Doom, Blackthorn shall lose the throne, and the realm will go back to the old ways of life! Do you see anything else?"

Jacqueline looked intently. "Lord British's return will bring about the collapse of the Underworld, and the annihilation of the Shadowlords."

"Not good, not good!" Gregory growled, "Are we and Waveguide still intact after all of this happens?"

Suddenly Jacqueline screamed and threw the bowl away from her.

"What _is_ the matter, woman?" demanded Gregory.

Jacqueline shuddered. "I have seen our deaths!" She turned to him. "The collapse of the Underworld will shake up and cripple much of Britannia for months, and Waveguide…"

"Yes?" asked Gregory.

"Waveguide shall go down into the ocean, and us with it!"

"This cannot be!" Gregory said, moved to fear for the first time in days. "What must be done?"

"The Avatar must be killed, before he can penetrate into the bottom of the dungeon Doom!" Jacqueline said, shaking.

Gregory forgot his anger for a moment and comforted his wife, who didn't seem to mind his bloody face and hand.

* * *

Waveguide was an inhospitable lighthouse on a small, grassy island just west of Verity Isle, the great island where Moonglow, the town of Honesty, and the Lycaeum, the castle of Truth, could be found. Some people thought it to be an odd place for a lighthouse, believing that it would serve better if closer to the northeast corner of Britannia where another great island and the Drylands met. Nevertheless, the keepers of Waveguide didn't care what other people thought of the location of their business, for they used it not so much out of care for sailing ships, like the keepers of Fogsbane and Stormcrow, or even Greyhaven, did, as a cover for their true work.

Gregory and Jacqueline were dark sorcerers and witches who were secretly in service to Lord Blackthorn, the man who usurped the throne of Britannia after Lord British vanished in the Underworld. They indulged in the dark arts, and made sure that Blackthorn could foresee what was going to happen in the future. The atmosphere at Waveguide and its island was always as dark and unpleasant as their works, and few people cared to visit it, which served Gregory and Jacqueline quite fine, for they were recluses and proud of it, wanting nothing to do with outsiders at all, unless they were emissaries of Blackthorn, or the Shadowlords. The first floor of their home was basically furnished much the same as Fogsbane, Stormcrow, and Greyhaven, but it was much uglier and dirtier, and a lot less tidy; the keepers didn't try very hard to clean up their messes.

* * *

One night, after it started to go dark outside, Gregory and Jacqueline were in the twin towers of Waveguide, manning and watching over the lighthouse's dual lights. They were rather content to do this each night, as they almost never got any visitors. Tonight, though, would be a little different.

To his irritation, Gregory noticed in the revolving light's beams that a ship was sailing up to the island and dropping anchor. He was even more pissed off when he saw who was aboard it. Climbing ashore were a man he recognized as none other than the Avatar, and five of his companions. They were walking straight for the lighthouse. Gregory swore and called to Jacqueline.

"British's 'champion' has decided to visit our private home," he said in disgust, "Be careful what you say if he questions you, wife."

"Of course, dear," Jacqueline replied.

"I mean it!" Gregory admonished her.

"I know!" she shot back.

"All right, then," said Gregory, "let's wait for the fool."

The demented couple clandestinely watched as the Avatar and his companions invited themselves into the building's ground floor. Gregory could imagine what they must think of the filthy state of their living room, kitchen, and bedroom. He was a little curious to know if the Avatar was wondering why he and his wife slept in separate beds, not that he was going to tell him. Finally, the trespassers made it to the towers.

The Avatar walked toward Gregory and stared in surprise and possibly some badly concealed disgust at his pale and badly scarred face and hands. "Excuse me," the Avatar asked, "but this is an interesting looking lighthouse. Would you mind if I asked you how you got all those scars?"

"Get lost!" Gregory said angrily and rudely, "We have nothing for you here! This is private property!"

"I know, I'm sorry," protested the Avatar, "I just wanted to know if-"

"I said, get lost, damn you!" Gregory shouted, "Get the hell out of here, or I will cut you with my newest razor!"

"I think, perhaps, thou should leave him alone, my friend," said one of his companions, "whatever his reasons may be for wanting to be left alone."

"Maybe you're right, Iolo," the Avatar replied. "I'm sorry we bothered you, sir."

"Just get out of my sight!" Gregory yelled.

They walked over to Jacqueline next, and asked her what was wrong with her husband. She absent-mindedly tried to think of clever answers for their questions, but kept on forgetting the most mundane things in her life, unnerving the Avatar and his companions. They were made even more uncomfortable when she mumbled something about liking the taste of mud with her supper, saying it was a good substitute for chocolate. The Avatar almost looked sick when she said that, and his companions looked a little queasy, too. Gregory chuckled quietly to himself. His wife certainly knew how to frighten away unwelcome visitors, perhaps even more than himself. At last, the Avatar decided to go, finally realizing that there was nothing for them there, and they walked down the stairs and back to their ship. "And do not tamper with any of our things!" Gregory yelled after them.

When they were wholly gone, Jacqueline asked her husband, "Did I do all right?"

"You did just fine, dear," Gregory said with a grim smile. "Now, what do you say that we send a message to Lord Blackthorn and warn him that the Avatar and his friends are loose in _his_ Britannia?"

"I agree," Jacqueline responded. "Now, could you remind me how we do it?"

Gregory shook his head in disbelief. His wife would probably never change.

**THE END**


End file.
